Somewhere In Nowhere Land
by Kuipher
Summary: A journey with Alex. She guilds us through her travels in Nowhere Land, so maybe she can find the one person who makes her whole again.
1. This is my story

This is something I started thinking about awhile ago. I couldn't sleep so I just started writing. It first started off as just a mini personal memoir and then I added Alex and Olivia to it. It's short because these are just going to be a series of drabbles and prompts whenever I get so fucked up emotionally I need this release. I wanted Alex to be the one to suffer because it's my weakness in fanfiction to see Alex harm herself bi-proxy. So, _Somewhere In Nowhere Land_ is for all the people who: 1. read this, and 2. suffer as I do from time to time. Mood stabilizers go a long way though. oh, and I own nothing but my copious amounts of spelling errors and grammar mistakes. (Maggie and the Ferocious Beast FTW)  


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_"Words don't break bones. I do that for myself."_

To whom it may concern,

This is my story and I am reluctant to be reciting my life story to you. These are stories of misery and pain that burrowed deep into my heart and took up residence. My walls are constructed to keep these all these emotions at bay. These walls my around my heart are made of pure concrete, and the concrete is constructed out of heartbreak; self loathing; hatred; and a pure desire to just disappear. I disappear. That's what I do when I get overwhelmed and need some 'air.' I skip town, sleep at random places and walk the streets in the early morning. I disappear so that nobody can find me, but sometimes I think I want to find you, or 'run in to you' randomly. However, everyday it gets harder and harder to not hate myself. You know, it's that feeling as if one person complains about something that pertains to you, you just feel so guilty, and you want to make up for it. You want to do everything you can just so you can sleep easier. Also, you have this perpetual feeling as if you have failed everybody. That's what leads to the broken bones comment.

I remember once, you asked me after making love, _"Alex, what happened," _I remember at first I had no earthy idea what you were talking about. I was still caught up in the afterglow, and my feelings about myself were a million miles away. They were so far away because I was, for once, complacent. Still trying to understand what you were talking about, I asked you what you meant. That's when you did the sweetest thing possible. You put your hand on my leg in question and you lowered your head, and you kissed the deepest scar. I was so overcome with emotions. These emotions were ones of happiness, in thinking that I finally found someone who cared. They were ones of disgust. I thought this wasn't right that you had such a fucked up lover, and ones of guilt; you didn't need to see me that way. I was most surprised at myself for not crawling back into my little ball of darkness that resides in the place you are tying to reach. After a moment I respond: "Olivia," I stammered, I had no idea why I was about to telling you these things that I have never told another soul. _"that is what happens when Love and Death Embrace." _and then that's when I lost it. I cried so hard and for so long, that I didn't notice you slipping back up my body, talking me into your arms, and pulling me into you; you molded us together. We were one. _"It's ok Alex,"_ you whispered. _"Every body has moments of weakness, and those,"_ you said touching my leg again, tracing over the copious amounts of crisscrossed scars. _"Are signs of a competitor."_ All I could do was cry harder. That's all I knew how to do. I had nothing left; I had no secrets, I had no strength left to fight all of these emotions I kept quietly into their respected areas of my mind. _"Olivia," I_ remembered whimpering while I was sobbing, _"I'm weak. I'm not a competitor. A competitor could keeps her feelings wrapped up better,"_ I told her this, still not knowing as to why I was being so honest about something I barely recognized as truth. An ADA couldn't do that. No way, she had to be perfect. I've always had to be perfect. _"Alex,"_ you whispered _"You survived, and that's all that matters. Also, nothing that you do to yourself will ever make my think twice about loving you."_ you pulled me in closer. I was so devoid of human contact for so long that it felt awkward that somebody was in my personal space. I normally hate after sex "cuddling" and I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't a dream created by the powers that be that reside below the earth. I normally get up and leave after I've had my fill. Wine, dine, and sex me and I'm good until I hate myself, once again but, this was different. I wasn't reluctant to be close to you. It was so wired. It was liked I needed this. I needed your strength, because it's was if you knew I didn't have any of my own left. I Iayed into your arms, just laying there because I honestly had nowhere to go, and god knows that I didn't want to be alone after my guilty confession. After what seemed like forever, you asked me one question, and this question I will never, ever forget: _"Alex, do you welcome death?"_ you steadily said. Most would find offence to that, but I knew differently. I knew that you didn't say that out of malice or contempt. You weren't trying to "change me" or make me "see the errors of my ways." You said this as if you had experienced the same omnipotent presence of death. As if you too, have felt the heavy weigh of death sitting on your chest, and you too have felt his legs crushing your sides with his and while his hands are on your throat, making you gasp for air. I was silent for a moment, actually considering the answer. _"Yes, Olivia, I do,"_ I told you. You then pull me closer. I didn't even know there was any space left between us. _"But,"_ I continued, _"not when I am with you."_  
_"Me either,"_ you replied. I just cried until I fell asleep. I remember, after that night, I hated myself for the longest time. We occasionally met up for sex here and there, but we both know that you wanted more and I couldn't give you that. I remember that next day I woke before you did, but before I left I did something I have never done. I wrote you a note.  
_"Thank you. Love, A," it said._ I was all I could write to you. I don't think two words could ever have meant as much as those did.

Those are the memories that I love to hate. They keep me alive, but yet they leave me so empty. I've hated a lot of people and things in life. I've lied, cheated and coveted so many times that I forget that I am even worth the title, _"human."_  
I sometimes look back at us, at what could have been. Then I get this sensation that I am not worth the energy for you to waste tiring to fix me. To me, everyday is an arms race. _"Let's see who kills me first. Myself or Death. Let's see who is faster and who can get away from one another the fastest."_ That's what I think everyday, because I know if I don't keep alert about the shadow sitting behind me, He will take no mercy onto me when he finally kills me. I take a no holds bar stance on my emotions. To me, broken bones and broken lungs mean only a bad day. Keep on moving so you don't get ran over, right? Keep moving, so shadows created by my nightmares will never catch up. _Be a million miles away, out of sight, out of mind,_ I say. That's what I do, and it keeps me alive. _J'habite pour la mort_, remember_?_ That is what I have to do, but I know it's not right. Is there something more in life or am I doing the right thing by not being with you? I want to know, I need to know. I need this knowledge, because I have this feeling that if you are beside me every step of the way, the flickering shadows in my peripheral vision will finally go home to the devil.

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ps. translation: I live for (the) death.


	2. Independence

I own nothing but spelling errors and grammar mistakes! :D

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_"And your body is just another decorated war zone; it's among the Many who fight..."_

I know, without a doubt, that I never allow myself to be alone. I drown my sorrows in work, the misery of others, and sex. I do these self-destructive actions for only one reason: I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of when the broken bones do not set themselves correctly, or when feeling pain does not placate me anymore. There is only one person who makes me safe to myself, but I know I can never have her. Her presence makes me a little sure of myself and the long day seems a little brighter. That is, until, I see the deep burses and cuts that are align with my body. Most people think that they are just reminders of pain. They are reminders of something, but not pain. They are reminders that I am alive. They tell me, at one time, I was alive and I was still breathing. When a burse does not set, or a cut does not draw blood I am pissed.  
I once was told that I needed help, and I obliged. When that made me hate myself more for being so weak, I fell back into oblivion and stayed there until Olivia made her presence was noted. I always thought that because there were people worse people off that I, I did not qualify to need help. I always thought that I was wining to myself; that I should just suck it up, because nobody admires a weakling.  
When I was seeking help, I felt as if my soul had been raped, and all my secrets were ripped from my hands. My secrets they were laid out on a table, and all that happened was that I was yelled at for being stupid. Well, if one thing I know is true, it is that I will never ask for help again. It is signing my own death certificate, I know, but I really don't care; I just like seeing burses and purple cuts. When I told my story, I knew what my victims go through. I see how they feel as if something was taken from them, and how there is an empty void, just waiting to be filled.

Olivia is my guardian angel. She sees right through me, and I know, for once, that somebody cares for me. For a person like me, independence is momentous. I will not let anybody do anything for me. I won't let them help. Olivia is the only person who does not suck up or baby me. I love that. She knows that I need independence, or I would just explode. She sees my scars as strength, and that I can take care of myself. In addition, I know that I do not have to be perfect around her. She knows that if we didn't have a secret pact of admiration for each other, I would go crazy. Every day, my objective is for people to respect me, because I do not respect myself. She knows, that I know, that she makes me human. Sometimes I wonder why I don't call her over and tell her how much I am in love with her. However, I cannot do that, because she cares for me emotionally, and I would just be talking advantage of that situation. Ever the detective, she knows this also.

All these years alone have made me nothing short of bitter. I hate everyone around me, and I know they hate me too. That is why I became a lawyer. I when I was growing up, nobody took care of me. Therefore, when my six-year-old mind reasoned that nobody cared, I was the one who started. I made sure that if I could make myself happy by my deeds, well, that was all the taking care of I needed. Nevertheless, when I was getting ready for college, and nobody was giving me that push that I needed, I ended up giving myself a push that sent me over a cliff.

Olivia is coming over tonight and I think I might just trough up the little food that I have eaten today. I love her, but this is just a business meeting. _Remember, Alex, never mix business with pleasure._  
I hope it leads to nothing more than that. She is coming over for a review of the current case; hopefully, we can be relaxed mutual friends. _Yeah, Alex, like you can act that casually around Olivia Benson.  
_"Olivia, Olivia, what am I going to do with you," I speak aloud.  
Then, as if the gods wanted to kick a fucking puppy, the doorbell rang. I had to admit, though, I was a little more at ease when I knew who was waiting for me to answer the door.  
I quickly crossed the hallway of my less than lived in apartment, and I opened the door to my awaiting fate. The woman who saves my soul on a daily bases was there just smiling at me. It was Just a simple smile that said volumes.  
"How are you?" a simple question to some, but to me she is asking _"I hope your day didn't wasn't bad. I don't want to lose you."  
_I sighed. I through a lopsided smile at her and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm going well," I say.  
She smiles a little wider and says, "I'm glad,"  
Oh god, I love this woman.  
I ask her what she needed to review that she did not already know.  
She says that it's the Simon case.  
"Really," I ask  
Yes. Her reply was soft.  
Ah, Olivia, I hate you. We don't have a Simon case.  
"What do you need to know," I ask her. Two can play this game.  
"I need..." she starts "to know the exact course of action the DA's office is planning to take."  
I love her stammering; it's so unlike my strong detective.  
"Well," I start, "I think we are going to prosecute him for 20 to life on all counts consecutively, not concurrently, like the defense is asking for," I finish then added to this little mantra, "Is that all you needed, because I don't really think that question warrants a visit to my home." I say it my prosecutor's voice. That is the voice that years of self- ostracization and parental forgetfulness taught me. It is also the voice that the numerous _"ice queen"_ slurs are directed too.  
Olivia just stands there looking down. She knows, that I know, she has no good reason for this visit.  
I ask her what's going on, and all she says is that's she worried.  
"About what," I ask  
about me, she answers softly.

I am furious. She is the one who is supposed to support me and leave me the fuck alone! God, how could she do this to me?

"Olivia," I say, "it takes five seconds to walk to that door. I am going to give you two."She leaves without a fight. Part of me wanted that to happen, just to see how much she loves me. Still, she violated the unspoken rule about our ongoing love/hate relationship: never speak about anything that could show my vulnerabilities.  
However, seeing, as it was a genuine act of endearment, I will forgive her soon.  
I now I just feel bad.


End file.
